Dancing, of Course
by The-Missing-Paige
Summary: Major Armstrong is throwing a dance for military members at his mansion. Somehow, he has roped over a hundred people into coming—some he forced, some he begged…now Roy and his crew, Ed, Al, and everyone else find them stuck at Armstrong's manor for the night.
1. Chapter 1

**Warning: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood, or any related characters.**

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Ed couldn't think how he had gotten here. Loud music (produced from alchemically enhanced speakers) poured through the Armstrong Ballroom, and the lights were subtly dimming as the night went on. All around him, more happy-go-lucky military members celebrated the chance to be informal (especially with their superiors), and everyone was, of course, dancing.

Edward, on the other hand, was attempting to blend in with the walls of the corner he was currently occupying—with only moderate success.

He and Alphonse had heard about Major Armstrong's little _dance_, and had tried valiantly to avoid the man since then. But just this morning, he had finally caught up to the brothers, sparkling and going on about how his ability to dance and plan excellent parties has been passed down for however many generations. Edward was fairly certain the Major had actually dragged them to his home.

Ed sighed. At least Al, who was currently visible in the center of the ballroom, seemed to be having fun. Edward had no idea where his little brother had learned to dance—or even when he would have had the chance to enjoy it—but he wasn't going to make Alphonse leave.

And so, the alchemist was stuck being a wallflower.

It wasn't that Ed didn't like to socialize; while it wasn't his number one pastime, he wasn't afraid to talk to people. Of course, he would rather be doing something useful than relaxing here, but if he had to he could. No, the problem was that Edward _couldn't_ dance.

He hadn't ever danced, not really, not even before his automail. Maybe when he was very young, the blonde would have jumped about to a tune on the radio, or swayed in time with his mother's humming. But now that half of Ed's limbs were metal, well, he didn't want to try dancing even if he could make the time.

So his plan was to hang out in his corner until it was suitable to leave. Unfortunately, Edward didn't count on Major Armstrong's intervention.

"Edward Elric!" Oh shit. There was no mistaking that voice. Ed looked up to see the Major coming towards him, eyes wide. "Why are you not dancing?"

"I, uh…can't dance." The alchemist was hesitant to admit this, but if it would get Armstrong off his back, so be it.

"Nonsense!" the Major boomed. "Everyone can dance!" His hand closed around Edward's arm, clearly about to drag him onto the dance floor.

Thinking fast, Ed half-shouted in desperation: "But I don't have a partner!"

This froze Armstrong, and so Edward kept going. "I can't possibly dance without a partner."

Ed truly thought he had won the battle when Major Armstrong simply turned, pulling him along the wall. "Well, then, let's see if we can't find you one!"

They traveled half-way around the ballroom, Edward protesting the entire time, until the Major spotted someone else who was not dancing.

"Oh, hell no!" Ed gasped, doing everything he could to cease Armstrong's forward motion. "Not him. _Please_ not him!"

"Why not? I don't know why he isn't dancing, actually…Colonel Mustang is a fantastic dancer!"

"Noooooo," Edward groaned. He couldn't dance with _him_. Mustang was such an ass! Besides, the Colonel was hardly likely to dance with a _man_.

This thought made Ed immensely more cheerful. He wouldn't have to dance with Mustang after all.

"Colonel Mustang!" Armstrong shouted, pushing Edward out in front of him. "I have found a partner for you!"

Mustang eyed the blonde up and down before sighing. Ed squirmed. "What are you doing, Major?"

"Edward Elric here did not have a dancing partner!" the man thundered. "Neither do you! You will dance together." Major Armstrong finished this sentiment with a hefty sparkle, not ceasing until the Colonel let out a _tsk_ and grabbed Edward's hand.

"Let _go_ of me!" Ed hissed.

"Fullmetal," Mustang droned, "If Major Armstrong wants us to dance the easiest thing to do would be what he wants." And with that, the Colonel led Edward out onto the floor.

It was immediately and painfully apparent that Ed had no idea what he was doing, which was a pity—he was hoping it would have been easier to fake it. The blonde was so embarrassed that when Mustang snickered, he found himself only blushing instead of yelling.

"I take it you've never danced before," the Colonel said in his ear, far too close.

Ed, of course, jerked away before shaking his head.

"Edward." Here the young alchemist started again. "If I'm going to dance with you I'm going to call you by name and I suggest you do the same," Mustang continued impatiently. Nuh uh. No way. Mustang would always be "the Colonel," if Ed was feeling nice, or "Colonel Bastard/Dickhead/Asshole" if he wasn't.

"Now," the Colonel said, pulling the boy closer. Okay, yeah, he was an asshole. "I have to stay close to you—the music is too loud for you to hear me otherwise, so calm _down_, Edward." Against his better judgment, Ed did as he was told. "Now, it's easy; you just put your hand in mind, the other on my shoulder—yes—and mirror my footsteps."

It sounded easy, but it was much harder than Edward would have thought. However, after three songs, he was getting the hang of it, and after five Mustang had relaxed (no longer afraid of having his feet stepped on), and in general everything was much more pleasant. Ed dared not say it aloud, but he was actually starting to…have fun.

Just then, a much slower song came through the speakers. Automatically, the Colonel shifted their positions, so that he was right up against Edward. The alchemist couldn't be sure, but he thought he saw a smirk.

Mustang released his one hand to tip Ed's chin up. "It's rude to look away from your dance partner, you know," he..._teased_? What was happening here? "Just follow me."

They continued to turn in a similar fashion to the way they had in previous dances, until the Colonel released Ed, pushing him out and spinning the blonde before pulling him in again, their chests coming together briefly.

With that one spin, Edward realized with irritating clarity that he was dancing the typically female role. Mustang seemed to be amused by this, and he continued to force Edward to look at him whenever the boy looked away.

Ed might not have been experience with dancing, but he knew a couple's dance when he saw one—or, in this case, _danced_ one. That, presumably, was the source of the splash of red on his face; nothing more.

Again, a spin, and, as per the Colonel's direction, Ed kept his eyes on Mustang's. His heart thumped oddly; the man's dark eyes bored into Edward's with a strange intensity, and the blonde found himself squeaking as Musta—oh, fine, _Roy_ once again pulled him close, this time bending Edward backwards and himself forwards, so that their noses were _just so close_…

And then away again, upright again, spinning across the floor luxuriously.

The duo continued this pattern as the song went on—obviously a classic, it seemed Ed would be dancing to it forever. It had easily been three minutes, and the music hadn't changed. Nor had Roy ceased staring at him with that strange gaze.

Again, Edward was twirled, and bent, and from the corner of his eye he caught sight of another man—whom Ed didn't know—_kissing_ the neck of the woman he was posed over. The blonde was suddenly very painfully aware of Roy's hand, firm on his waist, and how very inappropriate his position was.

It was a relief to be brought back up, but the amusement and dark light in Roy's eyes told Edward the man knew he was unsettled—_and he thought it was funny_.

Unfortunately, Ed was far too disoriented and flustered to get angry at the moment.

Finally, finally, the song was over. Edward's head was spinning, a mixture of the movement and Roy's forward actions. He got one more surprise as the Colonel bent down, kissing his hand. It was then that Ed realized there was no more music; either the dance was over, or Armstrong was giving everyone a short break.

Then he straightened, looking at the alchemist's wide eyes, and chuckled. "It was a pleasure dancing with you."

Edward seemed to regain his bearings. "What _was_ that?" he hissed.

"_Dancing, _of course," Roy answered, his voice deep and forceful. "But, you know, it gets better than that."

Half-curious and half-terrified, Ed nodded.

"Next time," Roy positively purred. "We'll have to dance in a more _private_ place…"

Edward blushed furiously, muttered something about how he needed to go. The Colonel laughed huskily, but let the boy make his escape.

As Ed walked away, he found he was more confused than before. Was the man drunk? Did he _mean_ it? Which was Edward hoping for?

The alchemist found himself to be uncomfortably (and yet somehow pleasantly) warm.

Perhaps he _would _dance with Roy again.

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**Yes so I hope you enjoyed that. **

royputthatthingaway

**This is why I shouldn't go to high school dances. This is the result. **


	2. Chapter 2

Once again, Edward found himself wondering why he was where he was—namely, outside Roy Mustang's apartment, hand raised to knock on the door.

Last night came to Ed's mind—that dance, _dancing with Roy_…and what the man had said to him afterward. After all that, the rational reaction would be to forget about it entirely, perhaps even avoid coming into contact with Roy (and when the hell did he start thinking of the Colonel as _Roy_ anyway?) as much as possible. Instead, here he was, looking for trouble.

Sighing inwardly at his lack of sense, Edward knocked.

And then he waited.

A solid minute went by before Roy answered the door. During that time, Edward had worked out exactly what he was going to say, but when the door opened, he found himself speechless.

Roy stood there, naked from the waist up, grinning widely. "Didn't take you long, Ed."

Flustered and irritated by this remark, Edward found his voice again. "Shut up! I wanted…an explanation."

Roy moved from the doorway, gesturing Ed into his apartment. He walked into the kitchen, talking as he went. "An explanation for what, exactly?"

Hesitating only briefly, Edward sat down on the sofa in the living room. Once Roy reappeared, handing him a glass of water, he answered. "Last night, what do you think?"

Roy sat as well, not across from Ed in the chair as might be expected, but next to him—_extremely_ close to him. "What about it?"

The feigned innocence wasn't doing anything but pissing Edward off. He could tell by that gleam in Roy's eyes that the man knew _exactly_ what he was talking about. "The dance! It was—it was—"

"Amazing?" Roy suggesting, turning to face Ed.

Edward shivered. "And what you said after!" he continued, hoping to maintain his composure. "That was just—were you drunk!?"

To his surprise, Roy laughed. "Of course not. It looked like you had fun last night, and _I_ certainly enjoyed the experience, so I thought I'd invite you over for more."

Several responses crossed Ed's mind—getting up and leaving seemed reasonable. Instead, his mouth seemed to move of its own volition: "You…said we should dance again…in a more private place." What was he saying? "What'd you…mean exactly?"

Roy seemed to have been waiting for Edward to say something like this. He leaned over him, placing a hand on Ed's thigh. A shudder passed through him, and he considered shaking Roy off—but no, he couldn't seem to move, captivated by the man's dark, intense eyes just as he had been last night.

"Do you want me to show you?" Roy breathed.

Ed felt a strange, warm feeling begin to spread through him. He thought back to the previous night. He couldn't deny, dancing with Roy had been fun, even (and maybe especially) that last dance…when their faces were so close, and Roy's hand was on his back, and their chests would press together...Edward nodded.

And Roy got up.

Really? Ed knew Roy could be an ass, but this was crazy! "Are you—"

Roy flipped on some music, dark and low. Edward had no idea where the man had found music like this, so…seductive.

Roy walked back to the couch, sat down. "You can't dance without music, Ed."

And then, unceremoniously, Roy pulled Edward on top of him. He rubbed his nose along the side of Ed's jaw, his black hair tickling gently. Then Roy kissed him.

It was slow, Roy's (admittedly more experienced mouth) moving in time with the music, and Edward following without question. It was probably wrong, and definitely insane, but the man's lips were so soft, and—as a tongue darted out to taste Ed's lip—_enticing_…

Roy's hands moved steadily down Edward's sides, not stopping when they broke for air. Ed followed his lead clumsily, unsure of how to handle this situation, and let his hands drop, feathering over Roy's chest and abs. He couldn't help staring at the man's physique, sculpted and beautiful despite the angry scar on his one side…

"Oh!" Ed let out a faint gasp of surprise as Roy began to gyrate his hips. He could feel the man's wicked grin as once again their mouths came together. It felt so _strange_—but good. Roy began to punctuate the heavier beats of the song with little thrusts, and Edward could not prevent a squeak from escaping as he began to feel something hard against his ass with every movement. His already flushed face went a deeper red when he realized what it was.

Throwing caution to the wind, Edward began to meet the tiny thrusts, rolling his ass on Roy's lap. This made the man gasp, break the kiss only to move down to Ed's neck. "Naughty boy," he whispered, making oddly pleasant goose bumps rise up on Edward's skin. "And you said you couldn't dance…"

Roy thrust harder, rolling his whole body against Ed, and at the same time brought his hands up, catching the fabric of Edward's and exposing his chest as he did so. He tossed the shirt on the floor before resuming his explorations.

Ed tried hard not to whimper, failing utterly when Roy moved his hands down, further, further, pausing at the band of his pants and rubbing there, a single finger teasing the button.

"Roy…" he groaned, as the man began to palm him. Still the thrusts, still in time with the beat (though the song had now changed). Ed found himself becoming increasingly desperate to be rid of his pants.

Roy must have been getting to this point as well, for he leaned forward, letting Edward fall backward onto the couch and looming over him. He continued to grind against Ed, and of course this action was reciprocated.

The man jerked Edward's pants down suddenly as the song increased in volume. Ed yelped in surprise, making Roy smirk. He continued to slide off the pants, and then his own, before continuing to thrust against Edward.

Ed gasped, hands gripping Roy's shoulders tightly as sensation overwhelmed him. He continued to let out tiny noises of pleasure, as the man bent down to whisper in his ear. "More?"

The question was simple, and Edward answered unthinkingly. "Yes!" he hissed.

But before Roy could fulfill the request, his front door opened.

And there stood Major Armstrong.

"C-colonel!" he stuttered, mouth falling open.

Granted, the way Roy was positioned, Edward was pretty much obscured from view (his small size helping the matter), but he still blushed to the roots of his hair.

Roy, even naked and displayed as he was, didn't seem to be bothered. "Yes, Major?"

There was a click as the song changed once more, and Roy began to move, just tiny, barely-there motions, but Edward couldn't believe he wasn't stopping. However, neither his shock nor his embarrassment could stop him from whimpering.

Armstrong was still watching, wide-eyed. "Colonel Mustang, I-I knocked, but there was no answer, and the door was open…"

He left the door open!? Irritated and with limited options due to his position, Edward bit Roy's shoulder to express his annoyance.

"Oh," Roy breathed, glancing at Ed with a smirk. "Feel free to do that again." He punctuated this with a more noticeable thrust, before turning back to the Major. "You were saying?"

"Sir, I…what are you _doing_?"

Roy chuckled at this question. Edward, at this point, had completely lost his patience. He was sitting there, underneath the man, needy and wanting and _hard_, and Roy was just carrying on a conversation. He rolled his hips up, eyes glaring.

Again, a glance from Roy. "Major, I'm afraid I'm going to have to dismiss you. This one's quite impatient."

Armstrong turned to go, probably glad to get out of the situation, and as he left Roy called out an answer to his previous inquiry.

"And as for what we're doing, well, we're _dancing_, of course."

And as soon as the door shut, they continued.


End file.
